


Above The Noise

by toesohnoes



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-13
Updated: 2011-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-26 00:36:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toesohnoes/pseuds/toesohnoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa and Sandor live in the same apartment building. Occasionally they bump into one another on the stairs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Above The Noise

**Author's Note:**

> An AU snippet written at my [Tumblr](http://toestastegood-fic.tumblr.com/post/12476221815/he-can-see-that-bounce-in-her-step-as-she-walks-up).

He can see that bounce in her step as she walks up the stairs of their apartment block, her hands weighed down with bright bags of new clothes. He can imagine what lies inside, what pretty lies she’s bought herself with her daddy’s money. His eyes linger scathingly on the bags as she approaches him.

She swallows, her eyes wide and nervous as she sees him. She’s scared of him; it would take a fool not to notice that. Sandor is a lot of things, a thug and a guard and a dog, but he’s not a fool.

“Good afternoon,” she says. Her voice is as gentle as bird-song.

He stares at her, half-hidden in the shadows near his door. The wide-eyed innocence of her gaze makes him want to retreat further into the darkness; more than that, it makes him want to reach out and crush it. It doesn’t belong in a world like this, a world that is filled with only piss and shit. She’s kidding herself, living in a dream-world just because she can.

“Save me your courtesies,” he says. “I don’t want to be your friend.”

She blinks and swallows again, as if mortally offended. His face twists into a smirk and he sees it, the way he sees it with everyone – how her eyes flick to the scarred and mangled portion of his face, as if the scars are the only thing that show who he really is.

“I was only trying to be polite,” she says.

“You were trying to kiss my arse. I’ve no time for your pratter.”

Her bottom lip trembles as she stares up at him, innocent but angry. He wonders what she might do if goaded: even kittens have claws. For her sake, he hopes she never has to use them.

“Run along now, little girl,” he says. “Try on your pretty dresses.”

He sneers down at the bags in her hands and she lowers her head, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. He steels himself against it – it’s for the best, because the world won’t live up to her fantasies. It’s a cold, dark place out there. It’s best someone tells her that before she gets hurt. Might save her a lot of pain in the long run.

With her head down, she wishes him a good day and carries on up the stairs. He watches her go, unable to do anything less. If he had a heart, it would ache at the sight, but all he does is clench his jaw and bite back any guilt that threatens to rise.


End file.
